Caught in the Crossfire
by SnerkyOne
Summary: Shelly Finkel returns, setting her sights on Marshall. How will Mary react? Mild spoilers for 2x10 - "Miles to Go"
1. A Word of Warning

**Caught in the Crossfire, Chapter 1:  
A Word of Warning...**

Shelly Finkel was having a good time. Granted, the situation was less than ideal, considering Mary was alone on the mountain, looking for an injured – not to mention unbalanced – witness, leaving Marshall understandably concerned about his partner's safety. Still, this was the best time she'd had with a man in quite a long time; Marshall Mann was a truly fascinating man, and she could definitely see herself spending more time with him.

"What's going on?" Stan asked as they returned to base, having failed to locate the wayward U.S. Marshal or the ATV she'd taken up the mountain.

"Temp is dropping with the sun," Marshall explained briefly, grabbing a pack from the ranger. "We need a chopper out here _now_."

She watched him hurriedly make his way back up the hill, taking a moment to appreciate the way his jeans clung to all the right places. Smiling to herself, she let her mind wander, imagining what his butt would look like _out_ of those jeans...

She caught Stan staring at her speculatively, causing her to switch back to her 'serious, no-non-sense therapist' expression. Still, the older marshal didn't look away; he just kept studying her, frowning slightly.

"Can I give you a bit of friendly advice, Miss Finkel?"

"Shelly, please," she reminded him, trying to lighten things up a bit.

"Shelly," he acknowledged. "I know it's not really my place to say anything..."

"Go ahead. I always welcome insights from the people I work with," she assured him.

"I can see that you and Marshall are getting along quite well," he started hesitantly, causing her to look up in surprise. She had been expecting him to give her additional information about the witness, or some other WITSEC-related bit of wisdom. "You seem like a really nice person," he added, sounding increasingly uneasy, "and I'd hate to see you caught in the crossfire."

"I'm not sure I understand," she said, frowning.

"Marshall is a great guy, don't get me wrong..."

"He certainly seems like an amazing man," she agreed, nodding.

"The problem is... Marshall is... What I mean is... With Mary..." He trailed off, obviously struggling to find the right way to say whatever it was he wanted to tell her.

"Are you telling me there's something between Mary & Marshall?" she asked, eyes narrowing as her earlier suspicions returned. Mary had denied anything was going on when she'd asked her, but it was always possible she'd been lying. After all, fraternization between partners – while not strictly forbidden – was still pretty much frowned upon; it just wasn't a very good idea to sleep with the person tasked to watch your back...

"No, of course not," the older man replied. "Though, honestly, it's not like they'd tell me if there was," he added, shrugging. "I'm always the last to know, with those two..."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me, then?" she asked, confused. Surely the man had nothing against her personally, right?

"Even if there's nothing going on," he continued, "the relationship between those two... It's complicated... I just don't think you want to get in the middle of that, is all..."

"I don't--"

"Look, you seem like a nice girl, and I'd hate to see you get hurt, which is why I'm telling you this, even though I should just keep out of it," he rambled on, running a hand over his face. "I've seen it happen before," he added, sighing, "and it never ends well... Whatever Marshall may be to Mary, she doesn't share. Period."

"Shouldn't Marshall have a say in this?" she asked, refusing to give up. She liked this man, damn it, and she wasn't about to step aside simply because of a possessive partner!

"Yes, he should... Ultimately, though, he'll just go with whatever Mary wants." He paused, looking at her with something close to pity. "That's just the way things are."

"Well, Stan, thanks for the advice, but I think I'll take my chances," she told him before turning and walking up the hill after Marshall, determined to pursue a relationship with the man. Contrary to Stan McQueen – and to most of the male population, it seemed – she was _not_ afraid of Mary Shannon.

Of course, had she known how events would unfold over the next few days, she might have heeded Stan's words and saved everyone a world of heartache...


	2. Liquid Courage

**Caught in the Crossfire: Chapter 2,  
Liquid Courage...**

Mary Shannon was at least four shots away from being any kind of drunk, and they were out of whiskey.

Perfect...

She turned her attention to the empty bottle on Marshall's desk, staring at it balefully.

"You realize it's not going to magically refill itself, right?" her partner asked.

"If you're not going to be helpful, then you should probably just be quiet," she mumbled, still staring at the bottle.

"It was your turn to restock the liquor," he reminded her as he rummaged through his desk drawer.

"Again, if you're not going to be helpful..."

"Aren't I always helpful?" he asked as he straightened up, having obviously found whatever it was he'd been looking for.

"Do you really want me to answer that right now?" she countered, shooting him a dirty look.

"You might want to wipe that look off your face, missy," he said, brandishing a brand new bottle and depositing it on the desk in front of her.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, staring at the bottle with something close to awe.

"Yep."

She picked up the bottle, first studying it from every angle – paying particularly close attention to the small print on the label – then cradling it as if it were a newborn child. "You got me the good stuff!" she exclaimed, beaming like a kid who's just been given a candy-bearing puppy for Christmas.

"Don't I always get you the good stuff?" he asked, amused by her reaction.

"Now we're in business," she said as she opened the bottle, pouring each of them a generous shot of the amber-colored liquid. "Oh god..." she moaned after taking a sip, "I _so_ love you right now..."

She never saw her partner's head snap up in surprise at her words; never saw the quick flash of longing in his eyes; never saw the hope fade away when he realized that she – once again – didn't mean anything by it...

Three shots later, and finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in her bloodstream, she turned her attention back to her partner. Frowning, she noticed he still looked like he'd lost his best friend. It was one ruined date, for god's sake... Hardly worth getting worked up about...

"It was just one date," she reminded him.

"I know," he sighed, staring morosely at his now-empty glass, "but it was nice and... uncomplicated."

"Uncomplicated's easy," she snorted. "You can get uncomplicated at any bar in the city, Marshall."

"I'm not really interested in your type of uncomplicated, Mare."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, pouring him another shot. As if there was one guy on the planet who wasn't interested in 'uncomplicated'...

She waited for him to say more, but he kept silent, looking at her with a sad expression on his face. "What is it, then?" she asked, against her better judgment. Every instinct she possessed was screaming at her to just let it go, but she pushed on, never one to back down from a challenge. Her partner was hiding something, she could tell, and she was going to find out what it was...

"Mare--" he started wearily, looking even sadder, if that was at all possible. She could tell he was going to try to steer the conversation to another topic, and she was having none of it.

"You're interested in what?" she prodded, studying him. He squirmed in his seat, refusing to meet her eyes. "Oh my god... You're interested in _her_?"

"Can we just drop it, please?" he begged miserably, reaching for his glass and downing it in one gulp.

She frowned, trying to ignore her growing unease. It wasn't like Marshall never dated – or never had bad dates, for that matter – so why was this one different?

Why did he care so much?

And why did _she_?

"Not that this hasn't been fun or anything," he continued, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil, "but I'm just going to head home."

She watched as he got up, then unsteadily made his way to the elevator.

"I'll take you home," she offered, grabbing her phone off the desk and following him out.

"I'm fine," he argued, pressing the elevator call button. "I'll call a cab. Besides, you've had just as much to drink as I have; you're in no shape to drive either."

"I wasn't planning to drive, you idiot," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "I was just going to get in the cab with you."

He cocked his head at her, obviously confused. "Why-- Never mind, I really don't need to know... I'm a big boy, Mare--"

"I'm sure you are," she teased, playfully bumping his hip.

He stared at her like she'd sprouted a third eye, then shook his head, hitting the elevator call button repeatedly.

"You do know the elevator's not gonna get here faster just because you keep hitting the button, right?" she smirked. Talk about role reversal; normally, she'd be the one abusing the tiny metal square while her partner calmly stood by.

She glanced over at him, expecting to see him smirking right along with her, only to find him engrossed in the emergency evacuation procedure posted on the wall. What the hell... He'd written the bloody thing himself – his responsibility as floor marshal, he'd informed her at the time – so it wasn't like he didn't know _exactly_ what it said. She'd had enough; time to find out exactly what the problem was...

"I'm pretty sure I can manage a cab ride home by myself," he blurted out before she had a chance to say anything, his eyes never leaving the 8x11 sheet of glow-in-the-dark yellow paper. "Just go home."

"I am going home," she agreed, resolutely stepping into the elevator. "Your home," she clarified, her tone of voice making it very clear she wouldn't accept anything other than 'yes' as an answer.

Mumbling something she didn't quite catch, he followed her into the elevator, head hanging in defeat.

She hit the button for the ground floor, watching as the door closed and the elevator began its descent. No matter what it took, she would find out what was wrong with her partner...


End file.
